


Falling is Part of Flying

by LibertyBelleAnne



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28323981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertyBelleAnne/pseuds/LibertyBelleAnne
Summary: Dick Grayson is very familiar with the sensation of falling





	Falling is Part of Flying

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If I owned the Batcave I wouldn't be writing fanfiction.
> 
> A/N: Timelines what timelines, I just cherry-pick cannon.

**Falling is Part of Flying**

The Batcave was empty, save for one sole occupant. Dick Grayson was pushing himself on the trapeze. He was one of the world's finest athletes, trained as an acrobat, police officer, and crime fighter. Sweat dripped down his face, plastering his dark locks against his forehead. He struggled to control his harsh breathing as his arm muscles shook with strain indicating he'd been at it for quite some time.

Too long.

His arms gave out. He fell.

Even weak with fatigue, he'd had enough training to bend his knees and roll forward as he impacted the padded floor of the training area. He rose to his hands and knees panting from the strain of workout and the emotional strain of his fall. His arms violently shook as they struggled to hold up his weight.

His breathing refused to slow as he struggled to refill his heaving lungs. He blinked owlishly, trying to clear his spotty vision. As he collapsed back to the floor he realized he was having an anxiety attack. He hadn't had one in years, not since he'd gotten over the fear of falling. He'd spent many hours at the edge of a roof before finally, he'd jumped. Since then falling had been just another part of flying for the last Flying Grayson.

His recent fall had been to similar to the ones his parents hadn't walked away from.

The anxiety attack seemed a fitting cherry on the crappy ice cream Sunday that was his week. He'd crossed paths with a child trafficker in his day job. His partner had lost it in interrogation, allowing the scum bag to lawyer up. He ended up being released, without giving a clue of where the kids were being held. His evening job allowed him to fight round two. Nightwing had him cornered before the trafficker had ordered a cargo unit full of kids to be dropped into the bay. The hero jumped into the water and was able to get all the kids out safely, but his quarry had escaped him again.

It felt like all he did was fell and failed. He snorted at the funny-sounding sentence. His brain dealt with trauma weird. On the bright side, his breathing was getting better as the stress of falling from the trapeze passed.

His breathing evened out but his head still felt floaty. His stomach felt wet, but he didn't know why. Was he still sweating like a racehorse because of his workout? He sluggishly commanded his hand up to his face only to feel the graininess of dried sweat. Even more confused he touched his side, unleashing the previously ignored fire. He stared at his red fingers in a daze.

"Alfred's going to kill you, Golden Boy." Dick hadn't even noticed Jason enter the Batcave, let alone kneel next to him.

"Jay?" Dick slurred, trying to make his mouth work properly around the cotton filling it.

"You broke Alfred's stitches," Jason said like that should explain everything. His older brother just gave him a confused look.

"You were shot," Jason explained bluntly.

"But the kids are safe, right?" Things were starting to get hazier in his memories too.

"Yeah," Jason confirmed, reaching for his older brother's flushed face. He pulled back almost immediately after feeling the scorching heat. Dick was burning up. It wasn't really a surprise no matter how good Alfred cleaned it. Gotham bay was a dumping ground for everyone; from litterbugs to mobsters. "Do you know how much shit is in the Gotham Bay?"

"A shit ton," Dick gave a weak smirk.

"Your brain deals with trauma weird, Dickie Bird," Jason sighed before he wrapped Dick's arm around his shoulder, lifting the shorter man up. Dick gasped as the fire in his side turned into an inferno. His vision blacked out and he knew no more.

Dick opened his eyes, expecting to see Jason, but shrank from Alfred disappointed look, instead. The older man was applying a new white bandage, purposely ignoring the pile of soiled red ones.

"Jason?" Dick croaked out.

"Out with Master Bruce mopping up the last of the cretins that shot you," Only Alfred's eyes showed his anger, "Being shot, however, does not give you an excuse for your foolhardy behavior, young man."

"I just..." Dick couldn't find the words to explain the feeling of being useless and trapped. Trapped by constraints at work. Trapped by his body's injury and limitation. Trapped in the infirmary bed. Trapped in the Cave. Trapped on the ground. He needed to prove to himself that he wasn't useless. He needed to fly.

"Just got the feeling to go for a swing and spill some more of that blood of yours I worked so hard to keep on the inside?" Alfred asked in his subtle sarcastic way.

"Sorry, Alfie," Dick lowered his head.

"Now, Master Dick, I suppose it wasn't all your fault. You hero types have trouble staying in bed long enough to heal." Dick looked into his adopted grandfather's eyes and found forgiveness for scaring the family. Alfred handed him a filled cup, watching as his patient drank it up with only a grimace at the taste.

"I should have kept a closer eye on that fever." Alfred all of a sudden looked old.

"Not your fault." Dick gave him a weaker version of his usual, bright smile before cocking his head in curiosity.

Alfred offered a wane smile of his own before answering the unasked question, "I had some mopping up to do as well."

"Sorry," Dick grimaced. He didn't recall much after pulling himself out of the water, but he remembered losing a lot of blood on his way to help. Blood that Alfred had to clean.

"Nothing a little bleach won't fix," Alfred placed his hand against Dick's overheated forehead. "I do expect you to follow medical guidelines until you are healed."

Dick nodded, leaning into the cool, comforting hand. His eyes were refusing to stay open but he had to know. He had to know if Batman finished the mission; if the world would be just that bit safer tomorrow. "Did Bruce get him?"

"Yes, I believe he did." Alfred gave a wolfish smile.

"Good." He finally felt like he could rest. He didn't have to do everything alone; he had a family who would pick up where he failed. Alfred must have added painkillers to his medicinal drink. Dick felt like he was floating away. He didn't fear falling anymore. No matter where he fell, he had someone there that would catch him.


End file.
